


Stratford

by punkrockloser



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Band, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 14:22:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8375542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkrockloser/pseuds/punkrockloser
Summary: Tyler blames the sun for all of his problems.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I found this in my countless WIP docs and felt the need to post it as its own stand alone piece, because I do like the story but am not sure if I'm ever going to continue it. It's all very pre-slash, pre-relationship, all that jazz, so nothing _truly_ happens except fluffy crushes, but I still think it's pretty cute

Tyler was exhausted. Between mowing the McPherson’s four-acre plot as soon as he’d finished scarfing down some eggs and babysitting Mrs. Smith’s five-year-old twins for a good three and a half hours, he just wanted a breather.

For Tyler, that didn’t mean laying in his bed up in his loft for a room, though it wasn’t a terrible idea at the moment. No, for Tyler, winding down after a hard day’s work and nearly seventy bucks resting quite nicely in his back pocket meant taking his small little pontoon boat out on the water.

The pontoon was Tyler’s pride and joy, his only child who received only the best of care. It was a nice sleek red with off-white awnings and leather seats, three different doors off the bow, stern, and port side, and large enough to hold at least ten people comfortably. Its name was The Judge.

The Judge became part of the family two years ago as the greatest—and only—gift for his fifteenth birthday. Tyler had nearly cried, though Zach swears he saw some actual tears, and couldn’t thank his parents enough. He hadn’t asked how much it had cost them, not even two years later, but he was fairly certain it was more than he’d ever deserved.

He had understood the responsibility that came with owning his own boat—an actual  _ adult _ boat and not the three-rider with the detachable motor that had begun rusting from age—and had promised to act on that responsibility. Even now, as he reversed away from the painted wooden dock, there were absolutely no dents or scratches marring the hull.

The weather was already cooling off as the sun dipped further toward the tops of the pines that surrounded the river, and the wind was only just strong enough to blow the surface of the water in the opposite direction of the current. Tyler turned on his radio as he maneuvered downstream, avoiding the shallow areas and the buoys that marked known stumps and rocks that easily tore through motors.

The radio was a bit static-y when he first turned it on, but grew clearer the more he fiddled with the dial. The stations he picked up out here weren’t exactly ‘Top 40’ or, really, anything from this decade, but 60’s and 70’s music wasn’t too bad once you listened to it for a few straight years. Honestly, the only time he knew what was playing nowadays was when they took a trip into town and actually got some service, cell  _ and  _ radio.

Tyler was sailing closer to the dam and knew he’d have to turn back around soon. It wasn’t a long trip, the dam being built only a mile and a half downstream of the house, but it was enough to calm him down.

There were still a few families lounging in the river near the concrete blockade when Tyler passed, despite the cooler weather he knew turned the dark water below comfortable swimming temperatures. He waved at them, as he was taught to do toward everyone who lived around here, and a handful returned the gesture.

It was a quiet return journey, and Tyler was incredibly refreshed when he docked The Judge and trekked back up to the house.

Everyone but his mother was present, but his dad assured him that she’d only run to Peg’s next door for some strawberries the aging woman had grown herself.

“That’s nice,” Tyler said.

His dad gestured to the kitchen. “There’s some fish in the oven for you, we were trying to keep it warm.”

He grabbed a plate and set a filet of the salmon down along with rice that sat on the stove. “Thanks dad,” he said before digging in, realizing just how hungry he truly was.

There were some days, like today, where Tyler would miss eating dinner with his family. It had only ever been because of the amount of time he spent on his work and the time spent out on the water, never from him actually wanting to miss meals with everyone, but there were times that it annoyed his parents. He always told them it was because he lost track of time, or he didn’t have  _ enough _ time, and that usually seemed to satisfy them. They tried to understand his apologies.

“Peg’s doing wonderful this year,” his mom announced as she came in through the screen door carrying a couple baskets of some of the largest strawberries Tyler had ever seen. She set the baskets down next to the sink, where Tyler was washing his plate, and gave him a one-armed hug.

Tyler merely smiled at her.

“How’d your work go today, dear?” his mother asked when she released him and started washing the strawberries.

The plate clanked loudly when he set it back in the cabinet with the others. “I got seventy dollars. Forty from mowing and thirty from Mrs. Smith,” he explained.

“Oh good.” She bit into one of the clean strawberries and her eyes lit up. “Try these,” she insisted, holding out the basket to him, but Tyler shook his head.

“Maybe later, I’m gonna head upstairs.” He turned on his heel and made it to the kitchen doorway before his mom called out, “Oh! Tyler, wait. I need you to grab some batteries and paper towels from the marina. Do you think you could do that for me now? I’ll give you the cash.”

Tyler groaned and turned to shoot an exhausted glare at her, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe. “Mom, I just got back, and it’s getting dark outside,” he complained. “The shop’s probably closed already.”

“You know perfectly well that shop is still open. It’s only nine!”

“Can I please just go tomorrow?” Tyler asked. If he did head down to the shop now, he wouldn’t be back for another hour, and he desperately needed some sleep. Besides, it’s not like she couldn’t go another night without batteries and paper towels.

His mom let out a frustrated huff, but raised her hands in defeat. “Fine, fine. Go tomorrow. I’ll just suffer.”

That got Tyler to snort out a sharp laugh. “Yeah, okay mom,” he drawled. He pushed off the frame and headed up the nearby stairs, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll get it tomorrow! Just leave a ten on the counter!”

There wasn’t a response, so Tyler knew he had got her to budge. The wooden stairs creaked under his weight as he climbed up to his small loft.

When they had moved into the house all those years ago, he had been the first to call the loft as his own bedroom. It was away from the other rooms, had a slanted ceiling that tapered into a corner and left the room feeling cozy instead of cramped, and was open on one side with a surrounding railing that allowed him to look over the living room. Though, the best aspect about his loft was the large half-circle windowed alcove that overlooked the river. When the sun was up and shining through the glass, the view was beautiful. When it was storming, it was peaceful. Tyler had certainly won the jackpot with his room.

After years of use, he had made this place his home. His bed was pushed close to the wall with the window, allowing sunlight to fall over the covers in the early mornings, the two dressers he owned in place of a closet sat side-by-side along the back wall opposite the railing, a tall standing lamp with a floral shade played guard in the slanted corner. His keyboard and ukulele rested next to the lamp, a little sad with how long it had been since he’d played them.

He bit his lip as he debated whether or not he should play a little, but he knew if he started he wouldn’t stop for a while, and he hadn’t been lying when he told his mother he needed some sleep. Tyler had promised his neighbor Daryl that he would bike over and help work out a problem with the motor of the man’s bowrider after breakfast, but if he didn’t have work he would have had no problem busting out a few chords.

Tyler had barely pulled off his jeans before falling down on the top of his mattress and let the cool night air from the open, screened window pull him to sleep.

—

The morning was chilly, his breath still fogging slightly in the air, as he rushed to Daryl’s cabin half a mile down the road. The forest that surrounded the paved road blocked the sun that had broken over the mountains already, and Tyler released a hand from the bike’s handlebars to tug on the hood from his sweatshirt. “Fuck, it’s cold,” he breathed to himself, hoping the weather grew warmer with the rising sun. The temperature wasn’t outrageous for early June, but a kid could dream.

Daryl was sipping what Tyler guessed was coffee out of an orange mug when he walked his bike out to the back of the house and saw the grizzled man watching the early morning kayakers from his porch.

“Tyler!” he called with a smile, eyes lighting up at his arrival. “Glad you made it. Let me just finish my coffee and we can head down to the dock, alright?” It was phrased as a question, but Tyler wasn’t going to suggest anything different.

He rested his bike up against the porch railings and joined him in the other rocking chair. Daryl was a family friend, older than Tyler’s parents by a good ten years, with leathered skin, a graying beard, and kind eyes. He’d lived up in the Adirondacks nearly fifteen years all by his lonesome, and was highly knowledgeable when it came to the surrounding areas—whether it be waterways, forest trails, or nearby towns. That knowledge included how to fix a motor, and normally Tyler wouldn’t have ever needed to do the job for him, but he’d thrown his back out a few months ago and, with him growing steadily older, had been advised to seek help when it came to manual labor. Tyler had felt sympathy for the man when he’d been told, but was thankful for the work he knew would be coming his way.

It wasn’t even that long of a job, either, as Tyler was in and out of the motor in just over an hour, but he still received a hefty payment of nearly the same amount as yesterday’s work. Being a friend of the family, Tyler always denied the first offer of payment, but people liked him—and it helped that he was young—and always gave him the money in the end. It was an easy way to act like he didn’t deserve it, but get what he wanted after all. Tyler had a good system.

The ride home was warmer, and he had leftover sweat from working in close quarters to a running motor, so his sweatshirt was tied around his waist. It annoyingly flapped against his back tire, and Tyler had half a mind to just throw it to the trees.

“I thought you’d be gone longer.”

Maddie was sitting at the table with a magazine when he walked in from the back. Tyler shook his head. “Wasn’t too bad,” he stated simply.

She looked him up and down, eyebrow raised. “You look sweaty.”

“Yeah, it got hot. I’m gonna go take a shower and then head up to the marina to get some stuff for mom,” he explained, then looked on the counter for the bill she was supposed to leave. He found it underneath the sugar.

“Oh, can I come?”

“Tch, no.”

Maddie scoffed. “Why not?”

Tyler rolled his eyes. “I like the quiet.” She only glared at him for another moment, then returned to her magazine with a small shake of her head and something grumbled under her breath that sounded strikingly similar to, “Jackass.”

Tyler ignored her in favor of a shower.

—

There were more people out today, brought in by the warmer weather, and Tyler had to sail slower than normal through the water as he passed kayaks, canoes, and other large boats going in both directions.

He’d pulled shorts on that showed off his knees and a white shirt that hung open at the sides after his shower and opted for sunglasses instead of a hat for his trip up through the river. He had the radio on once more, humming along to the ones he knew. He waved to everyone that passed.

It wasn’t until he entered Canada Lake at the end of the river that he was able to turn the throttle up and pick up some speed. The marina was on the direct opposite side of where he came in at.

The Judge skimmed over the surface and blew a nice breeze through Tyler’s hair, and the song that Tyler had just gotten into cut off suddenly by a high-pitched beeping that signaled low fuel, just in time. He could grab gas at the marina.

There were only two others docked at the four gas pumps, and he was glad he didn’t have to idle and waste even more fuel just waiting for his turn. He turned the boat off and headed up the steps to the shop once he was docked, stern closest to the pump, where the gas tank was located.

“Hey Mark,” Tyler greeted the tall brunet behind the counter.

“Long time no see!” Mark called with a smile. “What’s it been, like, four days?”

Tyler rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Hardy har. My mom needs some stuff, it ain’t me.”

Mark was a few years older than Tyler and normally lived down in Pennsylvania, where he went to college, but continued to come back and work at the marina during the summers spent with his family. The two had grown quite familiar with each other through Tyler’s continued visiting to the small shop. Mark was probably Tyler’s only friend his age, as the people who lived around the towns were mostly older couples already retired or young families just starting out. It was quite lonely during the school year, and it didn’t help that Tyler was homeschooled either.

He set the batteries and paper towels down on the counter along with the ten dollar bill. “Oh, I’m also gonna need some gas, sorry,” he added once Mark handed over his receipt and plastic bag.

His friend nodded. “I’ll send the other guy down to do it.”

Tyler paused. “Other guy?”

“Oh, yeah! We hired this new kid, finally. I hate working alone.” Mark turned back to resume his stocking of the cigarettes behind the counter. “I have him sorting some stuff in the back, apparently he’s good at paperwork? I don’t know. Head down there and I’ll send him. What pump you at?”

“Uh, three.”

“Cool. See ya, Tyler!”

Tyler pushed the door out into the heat and sun once more and waved over his shoulder before heading back down the stone steps to his pontoon. He turned the radio back on as he waited.

He didn’t have to wait too long. A boy wearing the shop’s navy blue shirt was making his way down the steps toward him after just one song, and Tyler was taken aback by the shock of deep red hair.

“That’s some  _ sick _ hair, man!” Tyler called when the guy stepped closer, standing up and off the boat to meet him at the pump.

He looked up at Tyler with half a smile and a hand already reaching up to touch his hair. “Oh,” he laughed. “Thanks man.” He eyed The Judge and its matching red. “Sick boat.” Tyler couldn’t help but huff a light laugh.

“Yeah, the tank’s just right here,” Tyler said, flipping the top open.

“Cool.”

Tyler leaned against the side of the boat with his arms crossed over his chest as the redhead started the pump, knowing it would take quite a while for the tank to fill up.

“Hold up, turn this song up!” the kid said suddenly, and Tyler obliged with a raised eyebrow when he placed the tune.

“Cats in the Cradle?”

The kid just shrugged a little shyly, and Tyler took a good look at him. In addition to the curly red mop bordered by dark, shaven sides, he brandished simple white gauges and a silver nose ring. From the navy sleeves rolled up to mid-forearm, Tyler saw a rather colorful tattoo peeking out on his right arm. He looked like he belonged south, in New York City, not the small town of Stratford. He was too full of color, too…out there. It was refreshing.

“What’s your name, man?” Tyler asked.

“Josh.”

“Tyler,” he reciprocated immediately with an outstretched hand, smiling politely when Josh reached across the corner of the boat to clasp it in a handshake. “So, you’re new. Where’d you come from?”

“Ah, NYC actually,” Josh said unsurprisingly. “Parents brought us up here to get away for a while.”

Tyler nodded. “Happens,” he said. “Well, since you’re new, let me warn you about something.” Josh’s face turned to one of curious concern, and Tyler had to hold back a laugh. “There’s this older couple that come here every once in awhile—the Josephs—in a white catamaran. They’re like, super specific about everything. Be careful around them.”

Josh nodded with furrowed brows. “Yeah, will do. Thanks man.” Tyler bit the inside of his cheek. “So I guess you’ve lived here a while?”

“Hm? Ah, yeah, about seven years actually,” he replied, toeing a dip in the wooden dock. “I’m not far from here either, about fifteen minutes downstream, past Lily Lake, you know? So I come here pretty often.”

“So you know Mark?”

Tyler laughed. “Yeah, he’s like my only friend here.”

“I thought he was only here for the summers,” Josh mentioned, looking confused.

“Yeah, he is. Kinda sucks.”

The gas pump clicked loudly in the silence that followed, notifying the two boys that the tank was full. Josh pulled the handle out of the boat and replaced it, checking the screen for the total. “Sixty-four fifteen,” he said, wiping his hand on the butt of his jeans.

“ _ Damn,  _ you’re killing me, Smalls,” Tyler grumbled, pulling a laugh out of Josh. His cheeks felt hot as he pulled out seventy bucks from his wallet—so, all of yesterday’s payment—and handed it to Josh. “I don’t need any change.”

Josh counted the bills. “Shit, awesome. Thank you.” He sounded genuinely pleased. It pulled a smile out of Tyler.

“Of course. I’ll see you around, Josh.” He had already stepped back into The Judge and turned the key, the motor rumbling nicely. Josh lifted his hand in a wave before heading back up, and Tyler drove out into the large expanse of the lake.

Josh was funny, Tyler would give him that. Or, at least, it was funny to watch him act so concerned when he’d told that stupid, harmless joke about his parents. They were probably the nicest and least specific people when it came to their catamaran, and it would be quite amusing to watch the new kid fumble about around them. Tyler might apologize and let him off the hook next time he visited. Or he might not. He was such a rebel.

Josh was also very colorful, and Tyler had had a hard time holding his tongue in saying something ridiculous about that fact. As he did visit the marina quite often, he wouldn’t want to have to avoid the guy if he had said something incredibly embarrassing. He felt he hadn’t, though, as Josh had laughed quite a bit. Tyler didn’t know if he liked the laugh, though. It made him feel all weird.

His dad was sitting on the deck when Tyler pulled up. He set the shopping back on his lap as he passed. “There’s a new kid at the marina.”

“Like working there?”

“Yeah. Told him you and mom would be like super rude to him if you ever stopped by. He pumps the gas.”

His dad laughed. “That wasn’t very nice of you.”

Tyler was smiling, and he twisted his fingers together. “Nah, but he’s cool.”

There must have been something in his voice, for his dad eyed him, and Tyler went inside the screen door before he could say anything. He slipped past his siblings in the living room and up the stairs, flopping face-first against his mattress as soon as he stepped up into the loft. The sheets were cool against his pink face, but Tyler blamed the sun.


End file.
